


60. Down and Dirty at the Club

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [60]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee (TV) RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 09:27:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6323923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warnings: heavy verbal humiliation, ass play with a large toy, semen ingestion and CBT</p>
    </blockquote>





	60. Down and Dirty at the Club

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: heavy verbal humiliation, ass play with a large toy, semen ingestion and CBT

Antony's been home a couple of days now, and they've slipped back into their usual routine. Stephen heads straight home after work and they either train then fall into bed, or curl up with a movie and then fall into bed. Either way it's comforting and grounding for Stephen - even though he's aware Antony is a little preoccupied still; there have clearly been repercussions from the fucked up job.

He's sat in his trailer, a can of soda set before him as he wipes off the black make up from around his eyes. Colton had popped in minutes earlier with a box of donuts and they're sat unopened, ready for him to take home and share.

Coming out of a way too fucking long meeting, Antony pauses, checking his watch and calculating Stephen's whereabouts. If he texts now, he might catch his boy on his way home. _Meet me at the club. Bar then room._ His way of discreetly letting Stephen know he's going to want him on his knees.

Draining the last of the pop, Stephen picks up his phone as it trills to tell him there's a message. He grins when he reads it. They've not scened hard since Antony got home, his lover's desire to use the club tells Stephen he almost certainly will get to kneel and hopefully be put down. He texts back a quick _Yes Sir! Sx_ and pushes up out of his chair, starting to throw his stuff in his bag, eager now to get going.

Grinning at Stephen's response, Antony heads for his car, feeling better already than he has all day. Things have been rough since the last job, their clients unwilling to let things rest and him and Marcus at odds on how to handle it. But for a few hours now, he's going to put that all aside and focus on his boy.

Stephen rolls into the foyer at the club and scans his membership card, waving a greeting as he's welcomed in. He heads straight for the bar, his bag slung across his body, his eyes seeking out his lover the moment he's through the doors.

Antony waves from the table he's claimed in the corner, his heart and his mood lightening the moment he catches sight of his boy. His cock twitches, a gut reaction to the knowledge that he can do _anything_ to Stephen here, but he tamps down the arousal for a moment in favour of a proper hello.

"Hi," Stephen leans in to plant a noisy smack of a kiss on his lover's mouth before dropping to sit down beside him. "Your text was a nice surprise," he grins, stuffing his bag down beside him. "How'd it go today?"

"Fine," Antony says quickly before reminding himself he owes Stephen more honesty than that. "Long. Frustrating." He smiles though, moving on quickly, "How was your day?"

"Long, frustrating," Stephen grins. "But Colton dropped some donuts by for me just as he left," he up nods a greeting to the server who approaches. "Large glass of iced water with lime slice please."

"I'm good," Antony tells the server, nodding at his barely touched half pint. "What'd you do to deserve those?" he asks Stephen.

"Are you insinuating that I'm not deserving of random donut donations?" Stephen's brows shoot up. "I'll have you know I'm a very good boy." And if he's flirting, so what. He's feeling playful and there's still worry creasing the corners of Antony's mouth.

"Yeah, but you're not his good boy," Antony grins back, sipping at his pint. The way his day has gone it's tempting to throw it back but he was serious about wanting Stephen on his knees.

"No, but it's been weeks since you brought me donuts, Colton obviously saw I was wasting away," Stephen leans in. "Am I your good boy Sir?" he asks, meeting his lover's gaze.

Antony nods. "Without question," he says softly, a wicked glint in his eye as he adds, "but you'd be my even better boy if you were naked."

Stephen's mouth tilts at the corner, and he leans in, stealing one last kiss, before pulling back. He toes off his shoes, stands and slowly strips naked, folding each item as he removes it and setting it all aside. Then he sinks to his knees in his presentation pose. All the while he has eyes only for his Sir.

Gaze locked on his boy, Antony's nevertheless very aware of all the eyes around them watching Stephen. He doesn't blame them and if he wanted them not to look, they wouldn't be doing this out here. "You are so fucking beautiful," he murmurs before nodding to a server who scurries over, a few words whispered in his ear. "We're going to play down here first," he tells Stephen when the man heads off to fulfill his request.

"Yes Sir." It might as well be 'whatever you want...' because Stephen will do _anything_ to please this man. He sees the appreciation in his Sir's gaze and he smiles. "I love how you look at this boy," he offers softly. "It makes him feel treasured beyond measure."

"Good, because you _are_ treasured - beyond everything else that I own," Antony returns. "My most prized possession." Of course Stephen's a lot more than that - lover, partner, friend - but here, right now, this is what matters most.

Stephen positively glows under at those words. Their connection had been almost immediate when they'd met, and as the days, weeks and months have passed it has grown ever deeper, ever stronger. Now, for Stephen there is only man he can ever imagine kneeling for, loving like this - it will always be Antony. "This boy is honoured, thank you Sir."

Antony smiles back, about to say something more when their server returns. "That was quick," he remarks.

"We aim to please," the man responds, handing over the items Mr. Starr requested. "Will there be anything else?"

"Not for the moment." A quick nod dismissing him. "Put this under you," he orders, handing what looks like a simple yoga mat to Stephen, the other items, concealed in a heavy brown paper bag, kept from his boy's sight.

Rolling to his feet, Stephen lays out the mat and then settles back in his posture. His dick is starting to fill, thickening, rising up as he lets the anticipation fill him. So far Stephen is utterly unaware of anyone looking at him - it doesn't occur to him that anyone might want to.

Next Antony hands Stephen a sachet of lube. "Prep yourself, boy, and make it good." His own cock already starting to ache.

"Yes Sir." Stephen takes the sachet, and rips the corner off with his teeth, carefully putting aside the small piece of foil rather than spitting it out like he might've done at home. He spills the lube over his fingers, slippery thick gel, perfect for ass play. Shuffling around he presents his ass to his Sir and slides the fingers home, reaching around with his other hand too, soon enough he's pulling at the edges of his asshole, widening the gape with each tug, fingers dipping in, more each time.

"That's it, boy," Antony urges, one hand dropped to his thigh. "Work that hole. Get it nice and open for me."

Coning his fingers tight, Stephen fucks himself with his own hand, his breathing is already ragged and he's craving the words from his Sir, the vile abuse that puts him down so hard - words he's sure are only moments away. _Please....please Sir...._

But they aren't the next words that come from Antony. Not yet. "Stop," comes instead, another sachet of lube tossed on the mat beside Stephen. "You'll need more for this," Antony says, pulling the impossibly huge black dildo from the bag.

Straightening up when the lube sachet hits the mat, Stephen turns back - he's aware that there are a couple of people on the periphery of his vision, but he pays them no attention. Especially when he sees the size of the toy Antony produces, his eyes widen and he turns his gaze to his Sir. Whilst he doesn't verbalise his hesitation, it's there for Antony, his Sir, to see. _You think I can take this? Here? Now?_ Taking the dildo he turns it over in his hands. One sachet is not going to be nearly enough to grease this up sufficiently. Fuck.

"Yes, boy?" Antony prompts, watching Stephen do his calculations.

Stephen's gaze drops for a moment. Then he says softly so only Antony will hear, "Please, do not let this boy fail you." That done, he sets about readying the plug, one sachet of lube smeared all over it, then he requests two more - the often quoted adage 'you can never have too much lube' being pertinent in this instance. Fingers slick he sets it between his thighs, base to the floor.

Eyes locked on his boy, Antony turns his chair, shifting so he's facing him even more fully, his legs spread, the hard denim-covered ridge of his cock on display. "Do it, pig," he tells him, his voice deceptively soft. "Show me just how hungry that cunt is."

It's like a smack up the side of the head - the sight of that thick bulge in his Sir's jeans - and those words, delivered in a tone that sends his skin goose bumping with arousal. Stephen sways as his subspace washes over him, his pupils blow wide and his lips part on a soft exhale of utter want. "Yes Sir..." Shuffling forward, Stephen uses his fingers to line up the head of the plug with his greasy hole. He works his hand in once, then he holds his ass cheek open as he starts to sink down onto the silicone. All the while his gaze is locked on his Sir.

"That's it, pig," Antony continues, his gaze never leaving Stephen, even as he's aware of everyone watching them, his boy the hottest fucking show on the floor. "You stretch that hole for me. You know I like a nice wide open boy cunt. I want to see it fucking _wrecked_."

The muscles in Stephen's thighs flex as he works himself up and down the plug, each time he sinks lower, taking more and more. His breath hitching, deepening, and finally becoming ragged as he works up a sweat. His skin flushes, it's darkest over his throat and chest, the highest point of his cheekbones. He never once breaks eye contact with his Sir.

"How does it feel, boy?" Antony asks, taking a drink of his almost forgotten beer, the brown paper bag laid on the table beside him, the last item tenting it still a mystery.

"Like when Sir puts his hand in boy..." Stephen's words stutter out, "Full, stretched...dirty..." he licks over his lips, his eyelids flutter shut for a moment then he forces them back - the sight of his Sir is his only tether from completely flying apart.

"And you like that," Antony says, rubbing his free hand over the bulge in his jeans. "Being my dirty boy, my nasty little slut, my fuck toy... opening up your cunt for me."

"No..." Stephen shakes his head. "I _live_ for that."

Fuck. Antony's cock jerks under his palm, his breath catching sharply. "You do, do you?" he says, a wicked gleam in his eye. "Say it louder then. I want everyone to hear. Tell them how you live for wrecking your cunt for me, being my pig, my hole... Say it, boy."

Waiting until he's sat further down on the plug, Stephen stills for a moment, he takes a breath then he speaks, his voice loud enough to carry, if a little rough. "This pig, this whore of a boy lives to please his Sir. He lives to wreck his dirty slut cunt, to have it dripping in his Master's cum, he is... _I_ am a hole for his use. I kiss his boots and thank him for using me."

At a groan behind him, Antony smiles. Let them look. Let them wish they were him. But they'll never get to touch. Never get to do anything more than _want_. "That's a good pig," he says, sliding further down in his chair, one booted foot pushed between Stephen's thighs, the toe nudging the base of the plug, jostling it inside him. " _My_ pig."

Stephen's breath catches and he sways a little on his knees, the sight of those boots - they may not be the perfect black leather military boots that Sir keeps for when Stephen's earned a reward - but they are leather, and they are boots and they are Sir's. "Yes Sir," he agrees, his arousal so high now his dick is spewing a steady dribble of precum from the tip, even if it's barely erect. "Your pig… your dirty filthy pig."

"How much more of that can you get in you?" Antony asks, running his fingers over the prize still hidden in the bag beside him. "Can you take the whole thing? Be honest, boy."

"Yes Sir," Stephen starts moving again, making a more determined effort to take the last of the silicone. He's fully stretched and all he needs to do now it take the last inch before his ass closes around the neck of the plug. Just a few minutes later and he's groaning as he takes the whole thing in his slicked up, abused hole.

That groan goes straight to Antony's cock and he shifts in his seat again, his cock throbbing so hard it actually hurts. "You make me so fucking proud," he says, making sure the words can be heard by everyone near them. Stephen deserves the praise. Has earned it.

The 'thank you' is mouthed, Stephen is panting, his skin sheened in sweat, he leans in and drops onto all fours, slowly, almost clumsily turning around to present his ass to his Sir for inspection.

"Look at you," Antony murmurs, pride and arousal lacing his voice. "You're so fucking filthy. Such a dirty little slut," he continues, sitting forward so he can trace his fingers around the base of the plug, around the skin stretched so thin and pale around it. "What would be enough?" he murmurs, his words for them now, although anyone who strains could hear them. "Both my fists? That wouldn't even be it, would it? Wouldn't be enough to fill this hungry hole. This gaping cunt."

Stephen lets the words wash over him, each like the tenderest kiss from his Sir, the humiliation sweet, knowing it's all true, there is nothing he wouldn't do to debase himself for this perfect man. All he is, is Antony's to toy with - and break.

"What wouldn't you take for me, boy?" Antony murmurs, already knowing the answer. His free hand already reaching into the bag. Pulling the short-tailed flogger free, its soft leather falls trailed over the back of his boy's cock and balls.

The kiss of leather, Stephen knows it, his skin goosebumps up and he drops his head down to the floor, forehead resting on the back of his hands, his ass tilted up further. "Please..." he whispers, "Please..." _Hurt me...break me..._

Switching hands, Antony teases the leather over Stephen's ass, over his cock and balls and the base of the plug buried deep in his cunt, before bringing it in against his balls. The strike a mere tease compared to what's coming.

Stephen rumbles his pleasure in response to the barely there blow. "More please."

Another strike, this one harder, the falls lashing cock as well as balls and Antony's sadism is truly at the fore.

There's bite now, the pain washes over Stephen radiating out from his genitals. Heedless of their audience, indeed he's no longer aware of anyone but his Sir, Stephen offers up his pain noise, and his ass, for more.

Antony brings in the flogger again and again, carefully avoiding the base of the plug for the most part. Watches as skin turns bright red, a puddle of precome slowly growing beneath his boy. "You are such a fucking pig," he murmurs, grasping Stephen's balls in his hand and pulling them away from his body. "Such a fucking pain slut."

Past words now, Stephen merely grunts his agreement. Lost in his head space, drowning in endorphins - his ass burning from the plug, his butt cheeks on fire all he wants is for Antony to push him over the precipice and then piece him back together again afterward. He craves it.

"And now you and I aren't the only ones who know it," Antony says, slowly tightening his grip. "Everyone in here's watching you. Seeing what a dirty slut you are. What a filthy pig cunt."

The shame washing over him adds a new layer to his humiliation, humiliated not just by his Sir by the much loved and craved verbal abuse, but now by knowing that there are spectators, watching him - Stephen Amell - be the dirtiest, basest anal pig for his owner. He groans, long and low, pain focusing his attention on Sir's hand.

Balls held tight, Antony strikes Stephen's cock full-on with the flogger. Hard and then harder again. "They're all wishing they could fuck you. That I'd line them up and let every one of them have a go at your cunt."

The pain is rising beyond what he can just 'take', and Stephen's cries are getting louder and more desperate. "P...pp..pl...ease," not sure himself if he's begging for more, or begging for it to stop.

"Please what, pig? You want that? You want me to line them up and let them all have a go at you?" Squeezing Stephen's balls as tight as he dares. "You filthy little fuck."

The pain is unbearable, and Stephen drops down further, his face pressed to the mat, his hands balled up in fists as he screams out his agony. His entire being is shuddering hard, doused in chemicals that make his brain shut down, his pleasure centres erupt and words that to anyone else are the vilest insult become the sweetest endearment when falling from those particular lips.

Fuck yeah. Antony's cock throbs so violently, it steals his breath away. But in the next moment he's easing his grip just a fraction, his other hand wrapping around Stephen's cock, stroking roughly and without mercy. "You're going to come for me, pig. I don't give a shit how much it hurts. You're going to shoot all over that mat and then lick up every last fucking drop. Show everyone in here what a sick fuckpig you are."

Running on instinct alone, Stephen does as he's told, that voice is one he will never disobey - not when he's so far down. His screams fill the air, stilling all other activity in the room as his body convulses and he spills his jiz all over the matting beneath him. It's agony, but it's also a release of sorts...

"That's it," Antony nods, letting go of Stephen's cock and balls. "Now clean up your mess," he orders, moving one hand to Stephen's hip, determined to maintain the physical contact between them, especially here, like this.

Shaking from the adrenaline dump, his brain fogged by subspace, pain and pleasure, Stephen slumps. His posture utterly fucked as he shuffles on his knees, backing up enough to press his mouth to the mat, he licks at his cum, the taste sharp against his tongue, his mouth dry from the screaming he struggles to swallow, but he forces it down, until the last smear is gone then he stills, waiting for one last order.

"Good boy," Antony praises. He rises to his feet and walks around Stephen, kneeling down in front of him, his cock quickly freed from his jeans and fed into his boy's mouth. "Suck," he orders, not really expecting much finesse at all here. Not now. Not when he's put Stephen through his paces already.

The sucking is reflexive, he's done this so many times now it's almost habit. That impossibly thick cock stretches his lips, and he suckles on it, finding a strange sense of comfort from the action. The smell and taste of his Sir sooth him.

Fuck. It won't take long. Not after a scene like this. Antony fucks Stephen's mouth, not going nearly as deep as he'd like but it still feels incredible, and soon he's pouring down his boy's throat, flooding it with thick heated spurts.

Coughing, swallowing and spilling some over his chin, Stephen's utterly spent. Barely able to move, his brain is off line, he tips his head up, searching for his Sir's gaze, looking for something to tether him so he can relax and wallow in his headspace.

"Good boy," Antony murmurs, stroking his fingers over Stephen's cheek. "My good boy. I am so proud of you." He gestures to a server, indicating he wants some water and privacy screens up _now_. And sure as it's Citadel, the screens are up in an instant, blocking them off from the prying eyes around them, a bucket of cold bottles set on their table.

Stephen leans into that touch, needing the connection almost more than he needs air right now. He's unaware that they're now, to all intents and purposes, alone, his focus is for Antony and nothing else, not even himself. If he could see himself right now, Stephen would be horrified, he's naked, trembling and vulnerable.

A blanket's also been provided and Antony wraps it around Stephen's shoulders. "I want you to bear down for me," he tells him, taking the base of the huge plug in hand and giving it a twist. He knows it'll hurt, hurt like hell, but better now, while Stephen's still got that dump of endorphins in his system than later.

A fresh wave of agony rolls over Stephen when the plug comes free and he's plucking at Antony's jeans with useless fingers. "No more...please...red...redredredred."

"I know. It's okay, we're done," Antony tells him, sitting on the floor, the blanket wrapped even more around Stephen and his boy pulled into his arms. "No more," he promises, kissing the top of his head. "My good boy."

At last, peace. Stephen nuzzles against his Sir, his warmth, his scent easing out the panicky edge that Stephen had been dancing so close to. Instead he's soothed, given a safe place to wallow in his subspace and allow his body to cool and calm itself.

Antony offers Stephen some water, insisting his boy take a few sips, but other than that he simply holds him, murmuring soft words of praise and affection. Giving Stephen the opportunity to come back to him in his own time.

As ever it's slow, but Stephen's rise from his fog is sure. Eventually he finds it in him to shift in Antony's embrace, tilting his head to press a deliberate kiss against whichever part of his lover is closest. "You're a fucking bastard," he whispers the words warm, amused, rough.

Antony grins, eyes crinkling at their corners. "But you love me anyway, yeah?"

"More than I could ever put into words," Stephen tips his head back to look into Antony's face, to meet those beautiful blue eyes.


End file.
